It's Been So Long
by raindropp
Summary: Prince Caspian, book&film Lucy sees Aslan, but no one believes her. Re-vamped and re-posted. Rating for religious themes.
1. It's Been So Long

**Title:** _It's Been So Long_

**Author:** raindropp

**Book: **_Prince Caspian_

**Characters:** Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy, Trumpkin, Caspian, and Aslan

**Rating:** PG for Themes

**Summary: **Lucy sees Aslan, but no one believes her. Based on one of my favorite parts of the book.

**Disclaimer:** These characters and story belong to C.S. Lewis. All allusions to the movie and certain lines belong to Andrew Adamson. Kudos also to Tenth Avenue North for inspiration and their song "Times."

**A/N:** I started this story because I was just a little disappointed in how the movie portrayed Lucy's first sighting of Aslan. I really liked how in the book the other children eventually do see Aslan, and he joins them before they meet up with Caspian.

Having said that, as I started writing this, I became fascinated with the character of Peter, and how Andrew Adamson and William Moseley embellished him. I

I stuck close to the book, but was influenced by the movie. Most of the dialogue is C.S. Lewis' or paraphrased. Some is my own, and then there are a few lines from the movie that made it in here, mostly because I liked them.

**A/N (August 11, 2008): **I recently began editing the companion pieces that I had mentioned before, and in doing so, I thought it best that I remove my previous stories and re-post them together as one. This story is now complete.

* * *

_...I love to see you, and its been so long  
I long to feel you  
I feel this need for you'  
And i need to hear you  
Is that so wrong?_

("Times," Tenth Avenue North)

* * *

"Would you please stop talking to me like grown-ups?" Lucy said desperately. "I didn't _think_ I saw him. I _know_ I saw him."

Her words hung in the air, and they immobilized the others. Everything hinged on what happened next, on what the children and the Dwarf decided. Somewhere deep inside the children they knew that Lucy was right, and they longed for nothing more than to do Aslan's bidding. Just the thought of the Great Lion sent their noble blood flowing more steadily through their veins than it had ever had in England. His very memory in their hearts was life to their tired spirits and aching feet.

Nevertheless, gnawing at this hope was one doubt: Why had only Lucy seen Aslan? And the question swept through their pounding hearts and left them chilled and disenchanted.

Trumpkin spoke first. "Perhaps your majesty did see a lion," he spoke assuredly, but his eyes pierced Lucy with their doubt and arrogance. "But why should it have been a Talking Lion? Could it not have been just as wild and dumb as the bear on the beach?"

The Dwarf saw her as a child, befuddled by the heat of the day and an empty stomach, desperately seeking comfort in fairytales. Lucy wanted to scream with anguish and frustration. She suddenly wanted to slug him as Peter had done to the boys at the train station. She was not a child! Not here in Narnia, at least…

"Stupid," she snapped. She really could not help herself, and no one, not even Trumpkin, seemed startled by her harsh tone. "I know Aslan when I see him."

Trumpkin had never put much stock in Aslan and the old stories, though Trufflehunter had annoyed him incessantly with his endless prattle about prophecies and other worlds. However, Trumpkin could not deny that these children—ancient rulers as they may _claim _to be—had an air about them of something he could only assume to be Magic that fit with the Badger's worn-out stories. Neither could he deny that Lucy's claim had excited him. A hope he had not known he possessed had sank deep within him when he looked to where the littlest queen had pointed and only saw more trees and shadows.

There was no Aslan, he convinced himself.

Aloud, the dwarf said, "And if it was the Lion you children knew before, wouldn't he be rather old by now? 1300 years is an awful long time."

And deep within himself, Trumpkin crushed the nagging voice—which sounded an awful lot like a badger—that continued to pester him. He pushed it so far down that it became a hard and little stone in his heart, cold as ice. It ached deeply, but the Dwarf had made up his mind.

At the name of Aslan, pure joy had bubbled up inside of Peter Pevensie, like champagne being set free. It exploded across his face in a wide smile. But try as he might, no matter how hard or long the ancient king stared, he could not see Aslan or any evidence that the Lion had been present. He felt—why, he felt downright humiliated. Yes, humiliated, and not by Lucy but by Aslan himself. How dare He—

But what Peter was truly angry about, even he could not put into words. His head was pounding, his heart was low, and his soul was sick with fear, worry, and shaky confidence in his ability to be king. In England he had felt confined and denied, but here in Narnia, in a place that he recognized he would be called upon to prove himself, Peter felt empty and very, very young.

Peter could not imagine a Narnia without Aslan, nor could he reason that it had been merely Susan's Horn that had brought him and his siblings out of England. But if it _had _been Aslan, and if Aslan was there with them, why should He hide himself from the man—er, boy—that He had once crowned High King? Had Peter done something to displease his greatest Friend? Did Aslan regret His choice in crowning Peter _High_ King? Would Edmund or Susan or Lucy or someone entirely different been a better choice?

What had he done that made Peter so undeserving of even one small glimpse of the Lion?

Peter would not—indeed, he could not—look at little Lucy. He felt judged and wronged, and it crept over him like a killing frost.

"I guess the only issue at hand," Peter mused, almost afraid to say the words, "is whether or not Aslan was there."

Lucy felt as if she were falling. She stared at Peter as if she did not recognize him, and as her eyes filled with tears, she rasped out, "But I saw him. I know it was him!"

"Yes, yes, Lucy," her dear brother said in a hard voice, "but we can't be certain."

The very trees seemed for a minute to swell with the tension between the five. Cautiously, Edmund said, "Let's take a vote."

Susan absentmindedly played with one of her arrows. The feel of the smooth shaft and the firm fletching reassured her that she was really there and that this was not a dream like the ones she had experienced so many times in the past year. But this realization did not comfort her; it shook her deep into the very core of her being. Whether it had been one year or a thousand, Susan was not the queen she had once been, and she was unsure that she could become that Gentle Lady again.

She saw the confusion in Peter's eyes and heard the disappointment in Trumpkin's voice, and Susan clenched the arrow in her hand as an angry thought shouted within the confines of her mind, "I will NOT be made a fool!"

She worried, she fretted, she prayed—yet she felt no peace. It was as if she stood alone on the edge of the ravine, abandoned and uncertain. She tried to remember Aslan—

And what she could remember was too frightening, too real for Something now intangible.

Susan knew that she must follow Lucy. The words "leap of faith" rose unbidden in her consciousness, but though she could feel the power and presence of Aslan pressing down on her, Susan could not _see _him.

She was a coward, and it shamed her.

The voting began. Lucy did not speak as first Trumpkin and then Susan voted to travel down the gorge instead of up as Lucy insisted Aslan wished.

"Well, you were the only one who saw anything, Lucy," Susan said, knowing it was a lame defense.

"Well, Edmund?" Peter asked, and he felt nervous because he knew that if anyone would dare stand up to Peter the Magnificent and Susan the Gentle, it would be Edmund the Just.

Edmund's face was blank. He masked his tumbling feelings and tortured thoughts beneath a calm exterior. He would not look at Peter, Susan, or the DLF. He would not allow himself to be influenced by their decisions and sly glances.

And the young king remembered the look on Aslan's face and the words he spoke that day the traitor-child was rescued from evil, rescued by the very people he had been willing to betray. He had felt so dejected as he waited for the Lion's judgment that when he realized that Aslan meant to forgive him, Edmund could scarcely believe it.

He was a nobody, undeserving and a proven traitor, and yet Aslan had shown him mercy.

And then, wonder of wonders, Aslan had made him a king.

Edmund did not know if the others saw their royal roles as he did, nor did he judge them if they did not. But for Edmund, he understood that being a King of Narnia was a privilege and a testimony to the power and sacrifice of Aslan.

Now, this Son of Adam realized, to disbelieve Lucy was far too great of a risk. It would dishonor Aslan.

He had not seen the Great Lion, but Edmund knew better than to simply disregard Lucy's claim as the fantasies of a child. It seemed far more logical to Edmund for Aslan to appear to a child than to a group of teenagers playacting at being adults.

He paused and then said it, "The last time, it was Lucy who discovered Narnia, and no one believed her then. And if you remember correctly, we all looked extremely stupid when we realized she had been right. Even the professor believed Lucy. I guess what I'm trying to get at is that I vote for 'Up' and for Lucy."

Edmund gave his brother a stern look before adding, "For Lucy _and_ Aslan."

Peter's face was stony, while Susan rolled her eyes and made a big show of how unreasonable her younger siblings were acting. The Dwarf said nothing but kept his eyes on the High King, and although Lucy longed to give Edmund the biggest hug in thanks for sticking with her, even she recognized that they were not out of the woods yet, and that Peter had to make the final decision. She compensated herself by reaching for Edmund's hand and giving it a slight squeeze. He returned the favor, and the youngest king and queen faced their elder brother holding hands.

Impatiently and unnecessarily, Susan said, "Come on, Peter. It's your turn."

Peter's eyes locked on Edmund and Lucy's hands clasped together. His heart hardened at the sight, and his voice was cold and cruel as he passed judgment. "Down," he said.

Lucy stared at him, and he had to look away before his defenses broke under her gaze. Peter turned away and led the party down the gorge, with Trumpkin and then Susan following eagerly. Edmund gently led his sister by the hand after them. Lucy reluctantly allowed him to do so, but she could not hold back her tears as she followed the others.


	2. Pretending

**Title:** _Pretending_

**Author:** raindropp

**Book: **_Prince Caspian_

**Characters:** Peter-centric, with Edmund, Miraz, Caspian, and hints of Susan, Lucy, and Aslan

**Rating:** PG for Themes (and in this part, language; that is, if you are offended by the word "ass.")

**Disclaimer:** Kudos to C.S. Lewis, Andrew Adamson and his whole crew, and to Tenth Avenue North for inspiration and their song "Times.".

**A/N:** Again, I tried to incorporate my favorite bits from the movie and the book. I really enjoyed this scene in the film, so this fic is more movie than book. Sorry that it's a bit short.

**A/N (August 11, 2008): **I recently began editing the companion pieces that I had mentioned before, and in doing so, I thought it best that I remove my previous stories and re-post them together as one. This story is now complete.

* * *

_...Are you done forgiving?  
Or can you look pass my pretending?  
Lord I'm so tired of defending  
What I've become  
What have I become?_

("Times," Tenth Avenue North)

* * *

Across the way sat Miraz on a makeshift throne, attended by his general and lords. He looked winded and sore, perhaps even defeated, but this did not comfort Peter. He knew that a dying animal with no chance at survival is still just as deadly as one healthy and whole.

His arm was throbbing with pain, and white spots were forming in his eyes. He was conscious that Caspian and Edmund were speaking to him, and he answered as intelligently as possible, but all he could understand was that his arm was hurt and that the pain was unbearable.

He gritted his teeth and told Edmund to fix it. His brother grabbed hold of his arm but paused before pushing it back in place. Peter vaguely understood that Edmund was waiting for him to forget the pain that was to come, and as he looked up at his brother, he was overcome with an urge to ask for forgiveness.

Peter had been an ass, and he knew it.

Edmund looked at him solemnly, as if he sensed what Peter wanted to say. The High King licked his parched lips and asked, "If we die in Narnia, what happens back home?"

He searched his brother's face fervently. "Ed, you've always been there for me—"

It was the moment Edmund had been waiting for. He pulled, hard, and snapped Peter's arm back into place as Peter screamed like a dumb animal. Then he let go, walking away before his brother could say anything more.

Edmund knew that Peter was sorry, but it was not the right kind of remorse. Peter wanted to ease his conscience, not amend his wrongs. Edmund left him broken and angry, knowing that when his brother reentered the ring and faced Miraz again, he would fight harder, faster, and fiercer. He would fight to win.

And maybe, just maybe, Peter would do something right.

* * *

Miraz stood, and the Telmarines cheered as their champion waited for the boy-king to face him. Peter grasped his shield tightly and flexed his sword arm, testing his muscles and joints. In his mind, he could hear Susan and Lucy's voices challenging his actions. He could see Edmund's disapproving face. He could feel Caspian's rage.

Peter stepped forward and the fight resumed.

Lunge, stab, parry, shove—the two warriors were fighting to the death. They forgot the world around them; they forgot why they were even here. They knew only sweat, blood, and fury. Peter could see Miraz's dark eyes flashing. He felt the heated breath of the usurper on his face.

_Who exactly are you doing this for, Peter?_

Peter slashed his sword through the air.

_I haven't forgotten who really defeated the White Witch, Peter._

He felt the weight of Miraz coming down on him, his shield raised high to protect him, his arm still screaming in agony from its last injury.

_I know. You had it sorted._

This was it, then. The end. Peter wondered if it would hurt. He wondered if he would wake up in England alone, or would he simply "go on"? Wherever "on" was. He stared at the enemy, and out of worlds and ages past, he remembered a story. He remembered a time another boy-king had fought a man to the death, a man twice his age and thrice his height. Peter remembered, and an image of gold flashed across his eyes as he uttered one name in a final prayer: "Aslan."

Miraz was down. His sword was thrust from him, though Peter could not remember how he had disarmed the man. Peter held his sword to Miraz's throat, but he knew that it was not his place.

He took a step back and offered his sword to Caspian, and then he turned his back on the fight that was never his to make and limped back to the sidelines and to Edmund.


	3. Times

**Title:** _Times_

**Author:** raindropp

**Book: **_Prince Caspian_

**Characters:** Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy, Caspian, and Aslan

**Rating:** PG-13 for Themes

**Disclaimer:** Kudos to C.S. Lewis, Andrew Adamson and his whole crew, and to Tenth Avenue North for inspiration and their song "Times."

**A/N: **I recently began editing the companion pieces that I had mentioned before, and in doing so, I thought it best that I remove my previous stories and re-post them together as one. This story is now complete.

Setting (and build-up) for this chapter is taken mostly from the film, while most dialog is taken from the text. Chapter references _The Gospel of John, 21:15-19_.

This third (and final) chapter is perhaps my most religious and Christian chapter, and if some people are offended by that, then I am sorry. It is for these readings that I have given this story a T rating. I'd rather be safe than sorry.

* * *

_...In times of confusion and chaos and pain_

_ I'm there in your sorrow under the weight of your shame..._

_... I'll never forsake you  
My love never ends, it never ends._

("Times," Tenth Avenue North)

* * *

The war was over. The Telmarines were leaderless and scattered. Caspian and Peter had won. These facts were known to the children, and yet they realized the hardest part of their adventure lay ahead.

Aslan stood before them, with Lucy at his side. He was larger than life and so brilliant and golden that Peter's eyes were burned by his presence, yet he dared not to look away. Fear and joy clashed within the hearts of Peter, Caspian, Susan, and Edmund, and they did the only thing they knew to do: They bowed before him.

Lucy saw a welcoming smile appear on the Great Lion's face, and at its presence seemed to fill her to the point of bursting. Love and peace surged beneath her skin, and turning back to face the others, all the pain and hurt she felt began to seep away. She saw her brothers and sister as Aslan saw them, beautiful and pure.

Then Aslan spoke with his quiet authority: "Rise, Kings and Queen of Narnia."

At once, Edmund, Peter, and Susan rose from their kneeling positions, unable to contain their joy at being so addressed by the Lion. Caspian, however, remained with his head bowed low. Lucy could see a small shiver passing through him, and her heart overflowed with Aslan's love for this prince.

Aslan had noticed Caspian's reluctance. "All of you," the Lion clarified, and he spoke with such kindness that Caspian immediately felt as if he had known the Lion since before time began.

Caspian rose to his feet and stared with wonder at the mighty Aslan, but now the Lion's attention had returned to the others.

"Edmund," came the golden voice, and the child stepped forward in earnest. Edmund found himself falling inside the warm eyes of the Lion and he could feel deep inside as if his very soul was communing with this Master. After what had seemed like an eternity to Edmund (but only seconds to the others), Aslan smiled and simply said, "Well done."

They were the most beautiful words that Edmund had ever heard. At the sound of them, all doubt and fear that the presence of the Witch had stirred within him, and all anger and annoyance he felt for his brother and Caspian, died away. The two words had forced out of him all memory and guilt, and he was King Edmund. He had been tried and found worthy.

Edmund stepped back in line, and Aslan's voice said, "Susan."

She, like her brother, stepped forward. She hung her head in shame and refused to look at Aslan. The Lion took a step toward her and said again, "Susan." His voice was soft and kind but still powerful. Susan mustered up her courage and faced him, her heart in her throat.

Like Edmund, she felt something churning within her and she sensed rather than heard Aslan speaking to her soul and heart. Aloud, the Lion said, "Susan, dear one, you have listened to fears."

The queen nodded and tears began to slip past her cheeks. Aslan brought his face close to hers. She felt the warmth of his breath on her lips and the silk of his mane on her forehead. His breath spread like fire within her bones, melting the icy fears of her heart. She felt golden and alive. Her face softened and became even more beautiful than before.

"Are you brave?" came the whisper of the Lion's voice.

"Yes," Susan answered. The Lion smiled at her, and she knew that all was forgiven.

"Peter."

Aslan sat back, proud and terrible. The High King, although terrified, squared his shoulders and stepped forward. Whether by Magic or simply because of his fear, Peter felt as if Aslan moved farther and farther away from him. It was as if he were walking for hours before at last he stood before the Lion.

He found himself captivated by the face of the Lion, like his siblings before him. In awe and shame, Peter knelt. Something deep within him lurched and pulled forward; Peter thought he was being pulled into the very heart of Aslan. He felt dirty and ugly against so much Goodness, but he could not struggle. He heard dark thoughts and pains whispering in his heart, and his face flushed as he realized that Aslan could hear them as well.

_Do you love me, Peter?_

His mind was full of the Lion's presence. He was searching for a place to hide, a place to keep away from the purity of Aslan.

_Do you love me, Peter?_

Now, a sound like a thrashing wind was in Peter's ears. He felt it sail through his soul, and colors burst from it, enveloping him in beauty and grace.

_Do you love me, Peter?_

He was going to explode. He was washed in gold and warmth, but something black and ugly, cold as ice, was being ripped from his veins. He could not contain both. He felt as if he were to die, and with what little strength he had left, Peter's heart whispered, "Yes."

At once, the world was silent, and Peter was conscious that he was still kneeling before the Lion. He realized that the others had no idea what had just happened, that Aslan had spoken to his soul and had emptied it and laid bare all that Peter had hidden there.

The High King, humbled, raised Aslan's paw to his face. "Aslan," he said. "I'm sorry."

Aslan looked down at him and smiled. "My dear son," were his only words.

Peter rose to his feet and returned to the other three, Caspian watching him expectantly. The High King stood before the Prince and was aware that not only was Aslan and his siblings watching him, but all of Narnia and Telmar assembled on the banks of the river.

With great humility, Peter said, "Forgive me, your majesty."

Caspian opened his mouth to protest, but Peter grabbed the young man's hands and said, "I have not come to Narnia to take your place, Caspian. I have come to put you into it."

Peter turned to Aslan and announced, "Sir, this is Prince Caspian."

"Welcome, Prince," said Aslan, and Caspian knew that the words with pregnant with meaning and love.

The Prince broke away from the Pevensies and knelt before the Lion.

"Do you," Aslan asked, "feel that you are sufficient to rule Narnia?"

"No," Caspian answered truthfully, for how could he lie to such a noble face?

Aslan smiled down at him and said, "Good. If you had said yes, it would have been proof that you were not."

Raising his voice, Aslan spoke loud for all those present to hear, "Caspian, son of Caspian the Ninth, you shall be crowned King of Narnia under us and the High King."

As the crowds cheered and Caspian stood to his feet, Peter felt a small hand reach for his. Looking down, he saw Lucy smiling up at him. With her hand in his, Peter turned and followed Aslan and Caspian back to the How, Edmund and Susan following.


End file.
